


Recess

by flyingisland



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Gentle Sex, Izuo - Freeform, Love Notes, M/M, Raijin Days, Sappy Romantic Junk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya is an embarrassing secret lover, through and through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemoninagin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/gifts).



Izaya leads him into an empty classroom.

This is a bad idea.

They’re slipping behind the door. Izaya is pulling it closed and clicking the lock. He’s sauntering over to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. He turns, grin feral as the sunlight filtering through the window plays golden swatches against his skin, and despite how pretty he looks leaning against the desk and beckoning Shizuo over—

God, is this a bad idea.

He steps forward regardless, sparing himself the headache of listening to Izaya argue with him about doing this at school, in the middle of the day, in a _classroom_ no less, and resigns himself to getting caught and getting in trouble, or whatever fate surely awaits them once they begin messing around here.

Izaya pulls him into a kiss. It’s as soft as it always is, as it has been since the day they’d found themselves kissing instead of bickering, then fucking instead of fighting, and the mere thought of that first time sends heat right down to his groin.

He places himself between Izaya’s legs and they kiss for a long time. He can hear people talking outside, a sports game taking place far below in the newly repaired courtyard. Birds chirp, the wind blows, tree branches scrape against the windows.

And Izaya’s fingers travel from the front of his shirt to the fly of his pants.

Shizuo tips his head back as Izaya’s lips inch from his lips to his jaw, from his jaw down his neck, and before he knows it, his shirt is open and his pants are sagging around his hips. His erection pokes out between them and he tries not to focus on it too much. Cheeks red, he turns his face away, concentrating his attention on the buzzing of the radiator and really anything else to calm his jittery nerves. Izaya laughs, drawing his fingers along his shoulders.

“Are you embarrassed already?” he asks, and Shizuo can feel every centimeter of his skin igniting. He doesn’t speak, only stifles a grunt as Izaya’s fingers fall from his shoulders as tease at the head of his penis, “I’ve seen it before, Shizu-chan. You don’t have to make that face.”

He’s not making a face, he wants to argue, but then Izaya is grasping him firmer, pumping lazily and sucking at the dip of neck into shoulder, and he really can’t focus on anything but what he’s feeling anymore.

Izaya draws lines over him like red _X’s_ on a map, as though he’s already charted each of Shizuo’s sensitive places and revisiting those spots is so second nature to him that he doesn’t even need to search anymore.

It’s a little overwhelming, being so familiar to another person, recognizing these sensations as though he deserves them at all. He’d never imagined that someone else would ever be so willing to get close to him, and definitely not as close as this. Sometimes Izaya is inside of him, sometimes he kisses him so gently that Shizuo’s head swims with a thousand different muddled thoughts.

Sometimes he’s a little rough, sometimes he makes crude jokes and sometimes he’s even hateful. Shizuo finds that he doesn’t particularly mind it when Izaya is like that. Izaya is flawed, just like he is. He wears his shortcomings like a second skin, but Izaya’s are hidden somewhere deeper, somewhere so much harder to see.

And sometimes they bleed through. Sometimes Izaya is cruel. Sometimes he won’t touch Shizuo at all.

But usually, it’s like this. Private, secret, behind closed doors. And only when they’re alone will Izaya touch him like this.

Which, also, Shizuo doesn’t really mind.

He doesn’t see a point in keeping secrets. If anyone has a problem with them being together, he’ll just kick their ass, but Izaya revels in their deception. He thrives in the shadows, tucked away from the hungry eyes of everyone who might want to hurt him, and Shizuo decides that maybe that’s okay too. Maybe he can keep this secret forever, if only this can continue to happen.

“Are you thinking too hard again?” Izaya murmurs against his throat, tugging him downward if only to reach more skin, “Don’t hurt yourself, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo wants to retort, but then he’s being led down to the floor. He’s lying in a pile of his own clothes, on top of Izaya’s jacket with the heavy weight of his knife pressing upwards into his back. Izaya is lowering down on top of him, a blanket of warmth. They’re kissing again. His head feels light; he’s dizzy with need.

And Izaya touches him. Clumsy hands, wet lips. A packet of lube from the hidden pocket in Izaya's jacket is torn open, oily fingers are pressed inside of him. Everything moves in slow motion. Shizuo watches with blurry eyes. He spots the specks of dust floating in the air, barely registers the sound of the bell blaring overhead.

“Shizu-chan is always so tight,” Izaya purrs, breath so hot against his burning skin, his words vibrating through Shizuo’s veins as his eyes dance with want and excitement and something that Shizuo couldn’t name if he tried, “Like a virgin every single time.”

It’s such a stupid thing to say. Shizuo flicks his gaze away, biting the inside of his cheek as his fingers grasp desperately at the edges of someone’s uniform shirt. Izaya is working him painfully slow. He’s taking his sweet time. Shizuo’s breath hitches in his throat when a thumb smears precum against the head, and before he can stop himself—

“I-Izaya, p-please, just—“

They both pause. Time skitters to a stop, the world drops onto its side, and Izaya is watching him, picking apart every line on his face as his grip slackens.

“Shizu—“

“P-please just—just put it in, okay?!”

Izaya makes a noise as though he’s trying to laugh but it’s stuck somewhere deep down in his throat. He’s shaking, just barely, cheeks dusted pink as his lips pull upward and he sits back on his heels.

“Shizu-chan is… demanding today.”

Shizuo begins to tell him off, but Izaya is pressing against him, pushing slowing inside. It’s torturous, just waiting for him to move in completely, and when he finally does, he leans in closely, pressing his lips against Shizuo’s cheek.

“Shizu-chan is surprisingly cute.”

He’s arguing, but it sounds suspiciously like a moan. He’s telling Izaya to fuck off, but then he’s keening, he’s wracked with pleasure and barely comprehending the horrible lines that are leaving Izaya’s mouth as he rocks forward and back.

He hits a spot deep inside of Shizuo that sends tremors up his spine, tiny lights dotting his vision as the colors of the room saturate and nothing is quite as clear as Izaya's voice in his ear and all of the different sensations that are dragging themselves through him in slow, steady waves. Everything is warm, everything feels raw and far too concentrated. There isn’t enough air in the room for his lungs. The echoes of his voice sound far too loud in his ears, Izaya’s ragged breathing is booming around him.

He cums, hot and messy between their stomachs. Izaya doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop whispering in his ear.

He mutters, breathy, “Shizu-chan is… so adorable.”

And he cums inside, just like Shizuo hates. Just like he always does, the little bastard.

Izaya will never quite say _“I love you”,_ not even after all of this time. Even though the little fucker is more than comfortable saying things like _“Shizu-chan is so adorable_ ”, _“Shizu-chan is so cute”,_ no such confessions have ever managed to slip through.

But he finds a roll of paper towels. He cleans Shizuo up. He’s gentle even with the clean-up, and Shizuo can barely find the strength to move. He definitely isn’t used to this. No one has treated him like a fragile thing since he was a child. No one has ever considered being so kind.

And it’s Izaya, of all people, abnormally soft eyes regarding him fondly as he wipes the last of the mess from his backside, dabs the smeared cum from his belly. It’s gross, but Izaya doesn’t make fun of him at all. It would be the easiest thing in the world, but somehow, there are no jokes about the way he looks right now at all.

When his muscles decide to work again, he rises from the floor. They get dressed in silence and Izaya spares a look at the clock.

“That took longer than I expected,” he notes, straightening out his jacket and donning his usual insufferable smirk, “No wonder Shizu-chan was getting so impatient.”

Shizuo scoffs, pushing past him and heading for the door. He’s reaching for the lock when a hand grasps his wrist. He turns only halfway, intent on punching Izaya in the face now, since the sex is over and he just knows that they’ll be returning to the normal cat and mouse.

Izaya is too good at the act sometimes. Even with the memories of those hands working his body into a puddle of nothing but pure pleasure, sometimes, he would still love to knock each of those perfect teeth out with one satisfying punch.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya speaks, cocking his head to the side with the sweetest smile he’s ever faked before, “We’re late anyway.”

With a huff, he unlocks the door. Izaya can get bent. He’s not waiting around any longer.

As he's opening the door, Izaya’s words are barely discernible over the noise of the next bell, the chattering of students filling the halls, the birds and the wind and the trees against the windows.

And even Shizuo’s heartbeat, roaring in his ears.

“I love you, you know.”

It’s a joke. It has to be a joke.

He’s through the door in seconds. He doesn’t spare Izaya another look. He knows what he’ll find there. He can already imagine the look on his face—the mirth in his eyes, the pearly teeth peeking through the crack of his lips, and he’ll say, he’ll laugh first, of course, but then he’ll say—

_“I was only joking, monster.”_

So Shizuo leaves. He doesn’t look back. He’s right on time for his next class and it only takes him half an hour to steady his jittering nerves.  


* * *

 

  
Izaya skips his next class. He ventures out to the roof, overlooking the campus with hawk’s eyes as he scribbles in the notebook in his lap.

A love note, maybe, he thinks. A confession. A beast might not be able to understand human words, but maybe it can read. Maybe it can decipher the foreign hand of a different species, and maybe then it will understand that Orihara Izaya is not a liar when it’s inconvenient.

Orihara Izaya would never lie about his love.

Loving a monster is troublesome, but he tries not to get too upset about it. Shizu-chan is a completely different entity. He’s unlike Shinra’s headless girlfriend. He’s unlike aliens or yetis, or any of the creatures that Izaya grew up reading about.

His reactions are always a surprise. He’s always honest, even when it hurts him, always earnest and gruff, but never cruel for the sake of cruelty. He’s a lit firecracker, he’s a time bomb ticking away. He’s a bullet searching for a heart, and maybe Izaya’s been hit. Maybe it’s about time for both of them admit that this thing going on between them is a lot more than two teenagers wasting time.

He thinks about Shizuo’s face, the redness that tints his skin, his eternally chapped lips and the scowl that never quite seems to fade away completely. He thinks about the noises that he makes when Izaya is inside of him, those hissed curses, those little hiccups and muffled cries. He’s cute, of course. He’s always been cute.

He was cute the first time that Izaya cut him, he was cute when he pulled himself up from the street at the end of their very first chase. He was cute covered in so many ugly scratches. He was cute holding Shinra’s door over his head when they met again in the idiot’s apartment.

And he’s cute still, after all this time, even as he’s running away from the confession that Izaya had worked so very hard to finally confess.

Izaya tries to put these emotions into words. He tries to capture those words on paper. He wastes half of a notebook, wastes the rest of the school day, and when the final bell rings, Shizu-chan will find a note taped to the front of his locker.

He’ll look around warily, tug it away and open it carefully.

And it will read, as articulate as Izaya could muster:

_‘I love you, Shizu-chan. And I know that you love me too.’_

Izaya imagines that he’ll throw it away. He imagines that he’ll storm off into the courtyard and take out his anger on a group of unsuspecting victims, and maybe he does. Izaya never finds out.

Not until years later, fumbling with the dusty contents of Shizuo’s closet as he helps him pack his things, as they box up his belongings and transport them to a shared apartment, and he finds it tucked away in the bottom of a shoe box.

Time-worn, creased and tattered. It’s been handled many times.

And even now, after all of these years, he decides—

Shizu-chan is still so very, very cute.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, lemoninagin! I was up until 4AM writing and editing this, laughing about some sort of "Lemon Party" joke that I was going to make in these notes. Please don't google it, kids. Don't do it.
> 
> Anyway, this story was sort of a request? Sort of just me holding lemoninagin captive and refusing to hush until I had a nice list of kinks for a better birthday fic. As filthy as they were (Izaya being super gentle, Shizuo begging, Izaya getting embarrassed, Raijin Days--so dirty. I feel tainted), I had to see it through. I just realized that I forgot one of them, so I guess this means that I'll have to write you another Izuo fic in the future.
> 
> So I really had fun with this one! I hope you liked it!


End file.
